It had been a couple of weeks into our arrangement, and everything, pretty much, had happened in the house. If we went out for a drink, or a walk, or anything like that, then we were normal girlfriend and girlfriend. There was something exciting about how it switched on and switched off. She had rules for me - rules which governed these switches. The minute we were back through the door, I was to strip down to my underwear and kneel. I was never to walk fully erect in the house, and had become adept at crawling. She wanted me down there so she could kick me, if she felt like it, or stand over me; sometimes she'd sit on my back, or my face. In the house I had to call her
mistress
, and was to ask for permission before doing anything, or stopping doing anything. But, as I say, outside we were girlfriend and girlfriend. She'd maybe whisper something mean, or pinch me, secretly, but that was it.
Then, one day, we were out shopping. She'd found a nice dress, a pink one, with little flowers on. She was more feminine than me. She was actually less domineering, outwardly speaking, even though I was always the slave in the bedroom. We'd been together for ages, and had lots of sex, kinky and normal, though we knew what we liked. Anyway, she had found this flowery, pink dress, and said it would be nice to wear in the summer, on holiday, so she wanted to try it on. We started following the signs to the fitting rooms.
I said I'd look at some shoes whilst she went into the cubicle, and that she should come out and show me, and started to veer off towards the shoe section.
'Nope! - I want you to come in with me,' she'd said, casually, adding an extra-long 'pleeeeease' after I didn't reply, one that went up at the end with a flick of her leg, in that cutesy school-girl way that really annoyed me but also really turned me on, and then annoyed me even more by how much it turned me on. We were very different people: I only wore black - I still mainly wear black, though it feels a little less aggressive, now that I'm older.
'Ok. Going to be a squeeze.'
I winked at her, playfully, looking over at the very small fitting rooms that we were now standing outside of. It was my attempt to match her cutesiness, though it never came naturally to me. Very little did come naturally to me, actually, even in my relationships: though I enjoyed being romantic and doing couple-y things, they always took a bit of effort. Submitting to her had come incredibly naturally, the minute we tried it, and then again and again in every new scenario: from the longest and most intense, to the shortest and most playful. We had tried the other way, a couple of times. She really enjoyed being mine, but I wasn't good at the controlling, or the ordering about. It was actually one of the things that would come between up, years later.
We went into the fitting room, which was slightly bigger from the inside, and I remember thinking it would have been more than adequate space for one person, even if it did seem cosy for two.
I moved to kiss her. We were always affectionate in public, holding hands, little kisses, boring our friends with our love for each other, and we were in private now anyway.
'No!' She said, aggressively. Then, 'take off all your clothes, now,' she whispered, firmly.
It was her mistress voice. I recognised it immediately. Though we were still us when we were in our
scenario
there were obvious differences; she would never talk like this normally, not even in an argument. I panicked, for a moment, realising that I was going to comply, and trying to make sure I thought about it for enough time to know that I wanted it. I could feel her eyes on me, burning through my black top, undressing me with her impatience. Delaying would only have gotten me into more trouble. Maybe she'd punish me straight away, I thought, or maybe she'd have to wait until later, and I knew that if she did it would only become more and more brutal.
And I did, want it, this, now, in the fitting room. I could feel how much I wanted it between my legs. I wanted to be her slave, naked, in public. So I started to take off my clothes, which was difficult because I was shaking from the fear and the anticipation and the arousal, plus the room was small and somehow this petite girl had this way of seeming huge when she became my mistress.
'Quicker, slut.'
'Yes, Mistress.' I said, far too loudly, forgetting to accommodate for the location. I was normally loud in my submission to her, proud of my status as her permanent sex-object. But normally we were just at home. She put her hand over my mouth, and whispered in my ear, 'you will not speak until we leave the shop, you will only nod your agreement. Or shake your head if you need me to stop.'
I nodded my head furiously. Even more than my fear of being caught, or my fear of being punished, was my fear of her stopping. I wondered how far she would go. Would she let me bring her to orgasm? Would she allow me to orgasm? Would that be too dangerous? For a second I remembered all of our equipment, and thought it a shame that we were without it. Though of course I loved her body, and was happy just to be two bodies together, it was always more fun with our dildos and rope and other things. We had invested a lot of money in sex. It became a real issue when we broke up. We had decided to split the stuff as equally as possible, and attempted to remember the cost of things, in the end resorting to a very depressing googling of prices and making a spreadsheet; it was awful, and in the end, I threw all of my half out anyway. When I used it on myself I just cried, and the thought of using it on someone else made me sick. I don't know what she did with hers. I can imagine her humiliating someone else with it, telling them about me - about us - and making them feel secondary.
Can you still smell her cunt on my dildo? Are you going to lick it clean like a good little whore?
Unless she isn't a mistress anymore. She had always enjoyed it the other way around - maybe she's finally found her own mistress.
I took off all my clothes, folded them and put them on the chair. She told me to turn around and bend over with my hands against the wall and my legs apart. In this position, I waited to feel her fingers enter me, or maybe even her tongue. She had gone down on me so many times before our arrangement, and sometimes I missed it. But it wasn't very mistress-like to eat out your slave, especially from behind.
What I actually ended up feeling was one of our butt plugs shoved into my mouth. 'You have ten seconds to make this as wet as you can before it goes in your arse.'
I sucked furiously, confused thoughts racing through my mind. She clearly had planned this, and even brought toys along. I was staring at the dress that was hanging up directly in front of my face, when I saw it was a size six, which she would never have fitted into, and I realised how set up all of this was. I felt tricked. It was incredibly erotic.
The plug was ripped from my mouth and quickly brought to the entrance of my arse. With her free hand she grabbed my panties from the chair and shoved them into my mouth, along with her fingers; she was making extra sure I didn't give us away with my yelps as she shoved the plug into my arse. I started to shake; my legs were barely able to keep me up. I could barely stop myself from making a mess on the floor, especially after she whispered 'good girl' into my ear, and started to softly kiss my neck as a reward. When I look back on this day, when I'm masturbating, or being fingered or licked or fucked by someone who's not very good, I never get past this bit without cumming.
